


Catch and Release

by KatieHavok



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Worship, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Mild S&M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Pretentious, Sex, Simultaneous Orgasm, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/pseuds/KatieHavok
Summary: “I needed that,” Tina says softly, and she catches his eye with a smile. “I think you did too.”Newt nods, seeing no need to hide this from her. (He doesn’t hide anything from her anymore, and she’s cradled his heart long enough for him to trust her with it entirely.) “Yes, I did.”





	1. Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weatheredlaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/gifts).



*

Newt loves her like this.

Tina is spread before him, shameless and flushed and _ripe_. She suffers no inhibition under his gaze; she knows that he _adores_ every inch of her. Worships her even, and is willfully ignorant of any perceived flaws or imperfections.

Tina’s skirt and blouse are a crumpled pile on the floor. _His_ clothes have long since gone—he is, and always has been, comfortable in his own nudity; seems to revel in it. She doesn’t mind. The better to touch and taste and _admire_ , counting freckles and drawing constellations between his scars.

Cool air breezes through her thin camisole, tingling against her skin and tightening her nipples. Newt can feel her skin hump into goosebumps beneath his wandering hand, and he hides a smile by leaning forward to run the flat of his tongue over her breast. She whines, and her hips jerk at the contact.

(He worries, sometimes; her wants are occasionally pernicious, and it has taken a long time for him to be comfortable granting them to her. In this moment, he can see the darkness in her eyes, the _need_ in her trembling hands. It’s a need he shares.)

Newt dispatches her camisole with forced efficiency to focus on her breasts. He alternates between them: sucking, biting, leaving his mark. He works at her until she writhes, gasping into the cool air of the room as he trails his mouth downwards. Newt covers her with one broad hand (there is something primordial in the gesture, an inherent masculinity that beckons and claims all at once) and _presses_. The sound of her nails digging into the cushion is very loud.

“My _prickly_ Porpentina,” Newt murmurs and nips along the edge of her thigh. She makes a sound, low and breathy, that spears through him, and he draws back a moment to regain control of himself. When they’ve both calmed, he flips up her camisole to expose her lower half, and runs his teeth along her hip, inhaling her scent. He quickly returns to the juncture of her thigh, nuzzling into her and using a hand to part the lips of her sex.

(He is intensely focused, as he always is when they are together. Tina sometimes thinks that he prefers this activity over even their coupling. He is profoundly attached to this most intimate part of her and has traced and mapped every inch with teeth and tongue and worshipful touches.)

Reverently, he trails a finger along her swollen edges. “ _Good_ ,” he declares when she inhales sharply. He drags upwards through her moisture to flick beneath her hood, gliding over the silky button hidden there. (Her thighs tense, and the sheer _eroticism_ of her reaction makes him fumble momentarily) He takes a breath to collect himself before swirling a digit around and over, listening as her breathing falls apart.

Slowly, lazily, he drifts back down, toying at her opening before dipping in—just to the knuckle, just enough to tease. Tina jerks against him, and her hand clamps around his wrist.

“Not yet,” he demurrers, and sinks his teeth into her thigh. “ _Not_ until you’re ready for me.”

He falls into teasing repetition—in, up, over, around, and back again—to watch her tense and coil, head thrown back as she fills the room with the sounds of her bliss.

( _This_. This is what he strives for every time she makes herself receptive to him. His Tina, undone and wanton and _wanting_ , dangling on the edge until he decides to release her. Trusting him not to let her fall without him. Trusting him to catch her.)

His mouth tingles so he jerks forward, guiding one of her legs over his shoulder to wrap around his back, and _tastes_. The noise she makes is musical, and he closes his eyes in bliss. He flicks his tongue over her, short touches meant to ignite, and she fills his senses. Her hand finds his hair, tugs, and he adds a note of his own.

It doesn’t take much for her hips to start to roll against his face, short, sharp gasps spilling from her throat. In retaliation, he eases back, trading short flicks for long, slow strokes. She makes a frustrated sound, and he hears the thud of her head hitting the cushion in frustration.

“Newt!”

He raises his head to look at her, as lazy and content as a cat at a saucer of cream. “So sorry—did you want me to keep going?” He knows it’s borderline cruel to tease her when she’s _this close_ , but he also knows that she relishes the denial almost as much as she needs the release.

“ _Newt_ , I swear to _Circe_ —!”

He lowers his head to pull at her one last time, starting at the base of her cunt and dragging his tongue through her wetness. He groans when he dips his tongue to sample within, and she jerks as he wraps his lips around her clit and _suckles_. She shudders and is reduced to pleading against him, blunt nails digging into any skin she can reach.

“I do think you’re ready for me,” he says when he raises his head, leaving her panting and unsatisfied. She bares her teeth in challenge and reaches to grip his arms, tugging insistently.

Newt moves to cover her. Tina is flushed and unbelievably appealing like this, spread over the couch. He takes a moment to admire (dark eyes and swollen lips and tousled hair and acres of touchable porcelain skin) before pressing her thighs apart, slotting himself between. She makes breathless, needy noises beneath him; he’s in a state himself. He aches as he slides into her, sinking to the hilt with a groan, relishing the welcoming friction, the way she grips and stretches.

Tina groans and arches her back, allowing him to sink deeper as her nails cut into his skin. She’s fundamentally _alive_ beneath him, a wild thing of nails and teeth as he rolls his hips against her, and it takes all his formidable will to control his response. She has driven him close to the edge already but tumbling over that cliff would leave her unsatisfied, so he ignores his own needs and pours all his ardor into her.

She pulses around him, slick and unbearably _hot_ , and he bares his teeth at her in warning.

“Not yet, Tina,” he grits out, grimly ignoring the _pull_ of her. He shudders to a halt, and she sobs once, short and mournful. Newt takes a moment to regroup, placing a reassuring kiss on her sternum before wrapping his arms around her and, with a growl, lifting her off the couch.

He repositions and adjusts until he’s supine and she hovers over him. Newt plants his feet on the floor and threads their fingers together, allowing her to use his arms for leverage. Then he catches her eye and nods, giving tacit permission to take what she needs.

Tina moves over him like a goddess, using her strong thighs to ride him _hard_. He watches through glazed eyes as her mouth falls open, snatching breaths from the air to release them in gasps and moans and half-formed statements of delight. A flush takes her chest when her head falls forward, his name a staccato cadence on her lips. She locks gazes with him and his smile is a blade, poised to grant her release.

“Will you come for me, Tina?” he pants through the jags in his voice, tenuous control rapidly deteriorating. “Can you do that?”

She nods shakily and _grinds_ into him, causing his vision to go hazy. She does it again as her head falls back with a whine, fingers coming up to tweak her own nipples. A third time and she is released—coming hard, twitching and slick and unbearably _tight_. Her cunt milks him until Newt tumbles after her, his own orgasm a fierce and primal thing. He drags her down and pulses into her while she captures his lips.

They ride the aftershocks and take a moment to simply breathe, hands tangling over each other’s bodies. When they’ve calmed and their shaking has subsided, Newt helps her ease off him before tucking her into his side, gently smoothing a hand over her hair.

“I needed that,” Tina says softly, and she catches his eye with a smile. “I think you did too.”

Newt nods, seeing no need to hide this from her. (He doesn’t hide anything from her anymore, and she’s cradled his heart long enough for him to trust her with it entirely.) “Yes, I did.”

She grins up at him, radiant in the afterglow. “When can we do that again?” she asks, and he can’t tell if she’s joking.

He hoists a sardonic eyebrow before rolling his eyes to check the clock on the mantle. “Is 20 minutes sufficient recovery time, my dear _nymph_?” he quips, and she dissolves into giggles before gently swatting the side of his head with a pillow.

“I think 20 minutes is _perfect_ ,” she purrs and leans in to kiss him.

*


	2. Opal and Firestone

*

In the waning light of the fire, Tina’s skin glows opal. She’s damp with their combined sweat, but also smirking and very nearly purring in his arms, so Newt guesses she doesn’t mind the mess they’ve made of her.

She raises herself to her elbows, gently mapping the scars on his chest and neck. His flesh humps into goosebumps beneath her wandering hand, as it tends to do, and she shares the smile she reserves exclusively for him.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, and he lifts his head to smile at her with his eyes.

“You. I’m always thinking of you, Tina. Especially after—well. _After_.”

She ducks her head to hide the color in her cheeks, smile faltering, and he places a hand under her chin to raise it. He meets her eyes, as he always does when he’s being earnest. “Don’t hide from me, Tina. Please. We just made love, haven’t we?” He offers a tentative smile, the toothy one he saves just for _her_ , and she is powerless but to respond in kind.

“Yes, we did. I’m sorry, I—sometimes it’s hard, you know? The way you look at me, the way you talk about me...it’s like being in a dream, and I’m always afraid I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone.” She shrugs, a little awkwardly, and her mouth trembles. “I don’t mean to be insecure, I just don’t want to wake up. Ever.”

Newt levels himself next to her before taking her hand and gently placing it over his heart. He knows she can feel his heartbeat, as steady and reliable as his affections for her. The symbolism of the gesture isn’t lost on him—or on Tina if the sudden sheen of tears darkening her eyes is any indication.

“Tina, I’m not very good with words or dealing with humans. But with you, I feel better about that fact, because, with _you_ , I don’t have to try. Loving you is as natural as breathing to me. You say you feel like you’re in a dream, and you’re afraid of waking up; I say, without you, I have no _breath_ , and I’m afraid of dying. I assure you, Tina: _I’m not going anywhere_. I’m here, for as long as you’ll have me—you’ll never have to wake up from this dream.”

Tina’s eyes overflow, but her face is radiant when she leans in to claim him. He samples her tears and kisses them away, tiny, fleeting pecks over her cheeks and jaw and neck. Tina pulls him closer as he peppers her face, hands smoothing over his shoulders and back before moving down to the plane of his stomach.

Her face is dry when he leans in to nip her earlobe, and she hisses when he soothes it with a tender kiss. He repeats the gesture to hear her make that sound again, before nibbling down the column of her throat and swirling his tongue in her suprasternal notch.

Tina butts her face into his shoulder as he works over her, throat producing pleased sounds. She vibrates in his hands and digs blunt nails into his sides, before clever fingers trail down to grasp him where he rests against his thigh, half-hard and sticky with their combined fluids. He is still sensitive from their earlier activities, and her expert kneading quickly has him heavy and hard in her hands.

“Twenty minutes?” she quips, and her voice is so dryly amused that it forces a bark of laughter out of him.

“What can I say? You have that effect on me.”

She strokes him from the base to the tip, swirling her thumb over the vein on the back of the head before twisting back down. He takes a moment or two to just _enjoy_ the feeling of her hand around him, handling him with confidence born of long experience. Then he sits up and brings her with him, never allowing her to break contact until they’re facing each other and he can better taste her skin.

He knows the crook of her neck is her most sensitive spot so he starts there, laving it with his tongue before sucking hard enough to leave a love-bite. She moans, a low and earthy sound, as her hands remain gloriously sure on him. He angles his cheek to intentionally scrape her with his stubble—another breathless sound, and a red-hot burst of _lust_ flashes through him—while he swirls his tongue over her collarbone and across the expanse of her chest.

Her pink nipples are perky and hard when he makes his way to them, and taking one firmly in his mouth _finally_ causes Tina’s hand to falter. She squeezes as her hips jerk against him involuntarily. They groan in unison at the contact. When he switches to the other side, she yanks him against her and grinds them together.

Newt releases her nipple with a popping sound to gasp into her skin while her trembling arms hold him firmly. Suddenly and irrevocably inflamed, he gropes past where they meet to slot his hand between her legs. He parts her to find her molten to the touch, and still slick from their earlier activities. Groaning, he slides two fingers into her heat and rotates his wrist so he can roll her clit under his thumb.

Tina’s head falls back and Newt licks the column of her throat, tasting the animal sounds forming there. He uses his fingers and his mouth to drive her wild, watching and listening and tasting as she reacts. He nips, bites, and suckles, drawing her in, and is rewarded with her sighs and gasps and pleads. He watches her cues and reacts appropriately, awed by her ardor and willing to do whatever it takes to please her.

She clamps around his fingers without warning, and suddenly her hands are on his shoulders, pushing him away. “Not like this,” she gasps, her hair a stormcloud around her head, her eyes impossibly dark. “I want to come with you in me, Newt.”

He fervently agrees, so he allows her to grapple his shoulders and pull them backward. They land hard enough to force the breath out of him, and she doesn’t allow him to regain it before catching him in a searing kiss. Tina's movements are near-frantic as she rearranges her legs and spreads herself wide, and her hand fumbles where she grips him.

Newt makes a shushing sound against her hair before stroking a soothing hand over her stomach. Her nails cut into him but she catches the hint: she struggles through a few deep breaths and calms slightly, still unbelievably desperate beneath him but no longer mindless with it. He slants his mouth behind her ear and breathes “I do love you, Tina”, and she calms further. He repeats it until her trembling ceases and the aura of recklessness has left her. Emboldened by her pliancy, he guides himself and sinks to the hilt in one smooth stroke.

Tina clings to his shoulders and wraps strong legs around his waist, panting with need. Newt’s face finds a home in the warm hollow of her neck, forearms laying flat to support his weight as his hands grip her shoulders. She arches her back as he retreats and sinks back in, pebble-hard nipples biting into the mottled skin of his chest. She sobs his name the second time he rolls his hips against her, and the third snap sends her into wordless paroxysms of delight.

Newt dips his head to drink in her heated kiss, before releasing her to gasp her name across her skin in shaky halos. They move together like the tide, Tina absorbing the shock at the apex of his thrusts and reciprocating it to rock them together. They breathe and gasp as one; sometimes she cries out her pleasure or breathlessly keens his name, punctuation lost to hedonism. She swallows his moans when the urge takes her and encourages his adorations when Newt discovers her name tastes like manna and says it, over and over, until they’re both trembling and on the cusp.

The first outlying spark of impending release explodes across his nerves, just as he feels her tighten around him. Tina draws close and tenses, catching and holding his gaze as her climax bursts forth. Newt husks her name in awe as her eyes widen and she gasps her release, chest flushing red, trembling and hot around him. He holds himself steady as he nudges her along the initial crest of it, poised on the razor's edge until her powerful inner muscles start to flutter along his length.

His last bit of control evaporates and he crushes her to him, breaking rhythm to shudder. Rendered temporarily mindless by the force of his orgasm, every muscle pulls taut while he thrusts and grinds into her. Newt _growls_ as she angles her hips to be more receptive to him and, driven by blind instinct, he presses deep to fill the cup of her womb, gasping into her skin.

He comes back to himself in stages. Newt finds her stroking his shaggy hair, the skin on his back. She soothes him with soft sounds until his trembling subsides, and graces his nose with a gentle kiss. Boneless, they shift and adjust until they are side-by-side, covers pulled over them, fundamentally sated.

Newt is _exhausted_ and fading fast, but he still finds the energy to kiss her sleepily. Tina returns the gesture, eyes closed, and hums tunelessly when he wishes her good night. She’s asleep moments later, breathing slow and even, and he tells her he loves her. Then he spools around her protectively before dropping his head onto the pillow of his arm, watching her drowsily until he, too, is claimed by sleep.

The fire burns down, then out.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask, and ye shall receive. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> This was born of another convo with @weatheredlaw over on Tumblr. I blame her for this entirely. 
> 
> If you want to follow me over on Tumblr, I'm [@katiehavok](http://katiehavok.tumblr.com).


End file.
